


Ad Astra Per Aspera

by local_enginerd



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Implied Death, a shit ton of angst done right, ancient gladiator au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 04:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13159380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_enginerd/pseuds/local_enginerd
Summary: Neither of them could have known, yet tradition dictates that they must fight. That neither can forfeit. That there must be a victor. That there must be one who Mercury leads away. Perhaps in another life, a roll of the dice would not have fated them to this. But these are their truths.Ancient Gladiator AU.





	1. Against the Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ljósfari (Hala)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lj%C3%B3sfari+%28Hala%29).



> A Secret Santa gift for Ljósfari. Merry Chrysler.

Even before rosy-fingered dawn awakens, the din of clashing swords rises from the school’s training grounds. As their shadows shorten, the two fighters resign themselves to watching the ships on the Tiber, passing a waterskin between them.

Beneath the shade of a pine tree, Angela watches her companion curiously. Fareeha undoes the buckles on her greaves and bracers, removing her armor, with the exception of her helmet. The ornate headpiece, fashioned in the likeness of a jackal, kept her identity hidden from everyone, even her closest friend at the school.

(Perhaps Fareeha believed she could escape fate, but it is truth that nothing stops the curling tongue of rumor. The _patricii_ would most certainly get their togas twisted if they discovered that Ana Amari’s daughter was training to perform as a gladiator.)

Still, Angela doesn’t press for the truth; it matters little who her sparring partner is and more so that they trust each other. Instead, she runs her gaze along the tattoos on Fareeha’s arms; the curling wings of a falcon twist over her biceps, feathers stretching as she moves.

“Why is it that you’ve marked yourself with a bird’s wings?” The Graecian asks. While she can’t read Fareeha’s expression from beneath the helmet, the chuckle she lets out is answer enough. It rumbles through the air, settling warmly in Angela’s chest.

“I could say the same.” The Egyptian gestures to Angela’s winged helmet and greaves.

“Yes, but those sort of marks are...frowned upon in this land, are they not?” She replies cautiously, tracing the lines of her own armor as she does so.

“Ah, but I grew up in _Kemet_ , your _Aegyptos_ ,” Fareeha begins, extending her arm out under the light. Angela passes her fingers over the ink curiously. The warmth from her fingers travels down Fareeha’s limbs and finds a home there as their hands intertwine. “There, sometimes, these mean protection. My mother, she bears one for that reason.”

Together, they speak of the present and of the future. The moon waxes and wanes before either of them are summoned to the amphitheater.

As the gates rise and Angela squints against the light as she steps into the arena. Even half-blinded but sun and sand, she can recognize the jackal-headed armor on her opponent anywhere.

_Oh, the gods are cruel_. _So very cruel._

Neither of them could have known, yet tradition dictates that they must fight. That neither can forfeit. That there must be a victor. That there must be one who Mercury leads away.

Her gaze meets Fareeha’s across the arena. If the other woman senses an ounce of her hesitation or even shares it, she cannot tell, for Fareeha’s eyes betray nothing. Gone is the warmth Angela had grown so accustomed to.

Perhaps in another life, a roll of the dice would not have fated them to this. But these are their truths.

And so, Angela lunges forwards with a shout - she knows that she must close the distance before Fareeha has the chance to use her bow. Armed with only that and a short sword, the Egyptian would be disadvantaged against Angela’s longer blade.

The tattoos on Fareeha’s arms ripple as she lets an arrow loose, but it’s too late - Angela is too close. The Graecian deflects the shot easily with her shield, swinging her spear as she lowers it. Yet the shield and armor are heavy, are slow, and Fareeha has the time to duck away. Stashing her bow, she unsheaths her sword, the bronze glinting in the sunlight.

The spectators are a pack of hyenas, howling and jeering. And so, the dance begins.

They exchange glancing blows, kicking up dust as they circle each other. Metal falls upon metal once, twice, a dozen times over before either lose count, pressed under the midday sun. Neither fighter can get the upper hand, or perhaps neither wish to.

It is another lifetime’s worth of exchanges before Angela finds an opening and seizes it. She slams the butt of her sword into Fareeha’s helmet; the metal rings as it arcs into the air, turning over again and again. Her heart pounds against her chest when the jackal’s head skids across the sand. In one more heartbeat, the blade of the Graecian’s dagger is a hair’s breadth from Fareeha’s throat. As her hand steadies, Angela’s gaze meets Fareeha’s one last time.

_No, it couldn’t be. Her eye._

“Your tattoo...you’re the Centurion’s daughter, aren’t you?”

What she speaks is far less a question than a fact, a statement of the truth. And the way the Egyptian lowers her gaze is answer enough for the both of them.

“Then why do you choose to fight here? You are a _femina_ , fated by the gods for so much better!” Angela all but shouts. Her tears trail along the wings of her helmet and she does not even recognize her own voice when she speaks once more. “Your life is worth at least twice mine, in the eyes of the gods!”

The crowd roars, encircling them like vultures. Perhaps it is because they recognize Fareeha as well. Perhaps they do not, what does it matter to them whose blood is spilt, only that it is. And thus, perhaps they can sense that the curtain is about to fall on this dance.

“You,” Fareeha snarls. She twists beneath Angela, sending her and the blade flying. As she scrambles for her own sword, Fareeha gasps out. “You are wrong.”

“I will not kill you, _Fareeha Amari_.” The Graecian faces her and spits out her name like a curse, picking herself up from the burning sands. “I cannot.”

Fareeha swings with the flat of her blade, knocking Angela into the ground and bringing the tip to the hollow of her opponent’s throat. Angela does not resist, does not even look at her.

“Your soul is worth the same as anyone else’s, even my own. If the gods think otherwise, they are mistaken.” The Egyptian speaks. For a split second, her grip slackens ever so slightly and the blade shifts. “Fight then, even if you choose to die, you owe yourself an honorable death.”

Angela meets her gaze; she accepts this as a truth.

“Then so be it.”

Blocking Fareeha’s strike, the fire returns to her eyes. Angela’s hands find her spear in the dust, their dance begins anew.

Again, they find themselves matched blow for blow, metal for metal. Fareeha deflects a strike from a spear, her fingertips closing around the handle of her bow. But, as she lays the eagle feathers in place, Angela drives her spear upwards and Fareeha’s pulse finds itself pounding against the steel.

The bowstring is taut, she knows that even if she will not, her last arrow will find its home; it is yet another truth that tonight Mercury will lead two souls on their final journey. Together.

“Angela, wait. I love you. I always have.” Fareeha whispers in a single breath. “Gods, I’m so sorry I’m telling you like this.”

It is left unsaid that both of them will not return. Instead, Angela swallows thickly; her reply is only this: “May our spirits walk the fields as one again, one day.”


	2. Bibliography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because SOMEONE loves cited works.

Alchin, Linda. “Gladiator Training.” 1 February 2017.  _ Tribunes and Triumphs _ . Accessed 23 December 2017.  [ www.tribunesandtriumphs.org/gladiators/gladiator-training.htm ](http://www.tribunesandtriumphs.org/gladiators/gladiator-training.htm)

Atsma, Aaron J. “Hermes Titles.”  _ Theoi Greek Mythology _ . Accessed 23 December 2017.  [ http://www.theoi.com/Cult/HermesTitles.html ](http://www.theoi.com/Cult/HermesTitles.html)

Brothers, Bethany. “Gladitorial Combats.”  _ The Spectacles of Apuleius. _ Accessed 23 December 2017.  [ http://thespectaclesofapuleius.weebly.com/gladiatorial-combats.html#.Wj3rUN-nFPY ](http://thespectaclesofapuleius.weebly.com/gladiatorial-combats.html#.Wj3rUN-nFPY)

Manas, Alfonso. “New evidence of female gladiators: the bronze statuette at the Museum Für Kunst und Gewerbe of Hamburg.”  _ The International Journal of the History of Sport _ , vol. 28, no. 18, 2011, pp. 2756-2752.

McDaniel, Amanda. “Apprenticeship and Quackery.”  _ The Doctor in Roman Society. _ Accessed 23 December 2017.  [ http://exhibits.hsl.virginia.edu/antiqua/doctors/ ](http://exhibits.hsl.virginia.edu/antiqua/doctors/)

Thayer, Bill. “Ludi.”  _ Gladiator Schools of Ancient Rome _ . 22 March 2008. Accessed 23 December 2017.  [ http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Places/Europe/Italy/Lazio/Roma/Rome/_Texts/PLATOP*/ludi.html ](http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Gazetteer/Places/Europe/Italy/Lazio/Roma/Rome/_Texts/PLATOP*/ludi.html)

Pepe, Andrea. “Lvdi.” _The Colosseum._ Accessed 23 December 2017. [ www.the-colosseum.net/games/ludi.htm](http://www.the-colosseum.net/games/ludi.htm)

**Author's Note:**

> Angela is Greek in this AU. They're both gladiatrices, training at the same school.  
> [Support Me on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/P5P0EDWU)


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